


Baby, Follow Me Into the Water

by Jackdaw816



Series: Siren [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s02e01 Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, M/M, Merpeople, Mind Control, Sirens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27202471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackdaw816/pseuds/Jackdaw816
Summary: Torchwood was no match for a siren
Relationships: Jack Harkness/John Hart
Series: Siren [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969828
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12
Collections: Torchwood Fan Fests: Halloween Fest 2020





	Baby, Follow Me Into the Water

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I know I said I was going to do a trilogy, but plans changed so here's the rest of KKBB. EW will be its own fic and I'm also working on another pre-canon fic that will be fluffy to make up for the pain of the rest of this series
> 
> Sirensong is in italics just like in VDFHM. Title from Siren by Kailee Morgue
> 
> Prompt: Creatures, witches, and cryptids

John vaguely regretted throwing Gwen’s gun in the bay. Sure, it had been a terrifying and very effective move in the moment. But now he was unarmed, and he still had the majority of Jack’s little team to take care of. 

He’d just have to charm the others. No point in hiding now, not when Gwen would run to Jack’s side and tell him all about the big bad siren. John vaguely wondered if his spell would hold after so long, or if it would snap under time and stimulus. Guess he’d find out soon enough.

He went after the sidekicks first. The gorgeous tech, and the grumpy doctor. A cute pair, but definitely not fighters. Jack was the only real warrior among them. His talents were wasted here.

“Job done,” he heard Owen say as he entered the warehouse. He grinned. Perfect timing.

“Good work, team,” John said as he strode up to them, moving fast and intentionally. They both startled. 

“Where’s Gwen?” Tosh asked, shining her torch on him. They didn’t trust him. Good choice. John didn’t stop to answer. He grabbed Tosh as she fumbled for her gun and slammed his head into hers. Pushing her aside, he grinned. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, turning his attention to Owen. “ _Gun on the floor._ ” No threat, just a command. Owen looked confused but obeyed anyway. Then he reached for his comm. Pointless, and John told them as much. They surrendered their phones with just a few more notes of his tune.

“You touch her again, and I will kill you. Okay?” Owen promised. John was touched, honestly. A heartfelt but ultimately useless threat. He stepped closer, picking up a carved piece of timber from a random shelf.

“I’d prefer the efficiency of a gun, but I suppose the brutality of wood will have to do,” John said.

“Yeah, look, stop toying with me and get on with it,” Owen said, seconds before John hit him over the head. Owen crashed to the ground unconscious, and John reached for the canister. A shame; he had liked him. Behind John, Tosh screamed. Shit, he’d forgotten about her for a second. He turned around and smiled placatingly as he hooked the canister onto his belt alongside the other.

“Job done,” John echoed. He strode toward Tosh, piece of timber still in hand. She scrambled backward as much as she could, but she couldn’t escape. Lucky for her, she wasn’t the target. “ _Don’t follow me.”_ He dropped the wood, then left, whistling as he went.

Back behind the wheel of his hijacked car, John wasted no time heading to the final location. Time to find the last canister. And Jack. He hadn’t come here for Jack, but he would stay for him. Not that he would be asked. Jack never wanted him to stick around. A kiss, a fight, a shag if he was lucky. Then back to the stars, alone.

He drove fast, and before long, he was at the office building with the SUV parked outside. He ran his hand over the engraved letters on the bonnet. Torchwood, just like on the gun he carried. Jack had always been a pretentious fuck after all. And he hadn’t lost his penchant for marking things as his territory. 

He scoffed and headed for the revolving doors. Now those were fun. But the lift was so slow. Bloody twenty-first century. And then it fucking dinged. Had no one heard of stealth? He swore lightly under his breath and slipped away to hide. If Jack or his boy toy came to investigate the lift, he’d be ready.

And he was right. Ianto Jones came down the hall warily, gun at the ready. But he was an amateur; his focus was all on the lift, and he never noticed John lurking in the shadows. He whirled to catch a phantom in the lift, and John stepped forward, smirking.

“ _Into the lift, Eye Candy_ ** _,_** ” John said calmly, watching Ianto tense from fear. Shocked and compelled, he obeyed, taking slow steps forward and raising his hands. John hadn’t even told him to surrender, how sweet. He wrenched the gun from Ianto’s hand and he spun around.

“Your friends are bleeding, dying, and you barely have enough time to save them.” John leveled Ianto’s own gun at his forehead as he took the last few steps into the lift. Ianto’s eyes flickered with rage and confusion as he attempted to contact his teammates. Embarrassing.

“When you get to the bottom, _run_ ** _,_** ” John advised, only slipping a hint of his power into the command. Sometimes the strong-willed required a more delicate touch. “You look like a man who enjoys a challenge; see if you can save them.” 

Not that he had much to save. One, possibly two, concussed, and another frozen. Not as lethal as he normally operated. Maybe he should have used the lip gloss. C’est la vie. 

John moved in to push the lift button, then made an innuendo when the automated voice offered the perfect opportunity. He jumped slightly when Ianto caught the lift doors. A brave one then. He’d die that way, young and stupid. 

“Why are you doing this?” Ianto hissed, barely audible over the automated voice telling him to stand clear of the doors. John gave a nihilist speech he half-believed, tracing his gun along Ianto’s very pretty mouth. Jack had always had good taste, although John would never admit that to his face.

“ _So run, Ianto Jones,_ ” John commanded, letting his rage fuel his song. He grinned as the doors snapped shut, and Ianto threw up his hands in exasperation. He would stay away. And if he didn’t, John would shoot him. Simple.

Gun holstered, John made his way to the stairwell. He’d found Eye Candy on the top floor, no doubt they’d already searched or disqualified the rest of the building. Which meant Jack was on the roof. Great. John didn’t like roofs. He wasn’t scared of heights, but they did leave him a fish out of water.

He reached the roof just in time to see Jack bend over. Presumably, it was to pick up the canister, but John was distracted by his coat-clad arse. Still looking good. Jack’s phone rang.

“Cute boy, ringing to warn you about me,” John said, plucking the phone from Jack’s hand and throwing it aside. Maybe he should have been more specific in his instructions. Oh well. “Canister.” No siren song. Not yet. He had made a promise after all.

“If you’ve harmed them in any-”

“You know, they’re pretty but stupid,” John said, cutting off Jack’s threat. They had been rather easy to dispatch. “You used to have better taste.” Jack just stared him down, canister in hand and just out of reach.

“Doesn’t look like that from here.” John would be lying if he said that didn’t hurt, at least a little. But to retort would be to admit it. Jack mocked his plan, which, fine, wasn’t his best plan. But it had worked up till this point. And that was really all that mattered. He had Jack and his team doing his legwork without even needing to charm them. 

And then Jack asked him if that was what he wanted. Maybe he was right that it was a temptation spiel, but that didn’t mean that John was any less genuine about it. Here was where he put his skill to practice rather than his gift. He was plenty charismatic even without his birthright. But while Javic had fallen for it willingly, Jack was far more resistant.

“Move on,” Jack said harshly, and John felt anger flare deep inside of him. And then Jack took the coward’s route and insulted his appearance, which did nothing to quell his rage.

“Canister!” John demanded once more, tamping down the charm rising in his throat. Jack looked him straight in the eyes and threw the canister off the roof with nothing but a ‘whoops.’ John pursed his lips, smiling almost unnoticeably. This was fine; he could easily go get the canister now. Problem solved.

But then Jack had the _gall_ to laugh. And John snapped. Fine. He wanted to play dirty? They could play dirty.

“ _Shut up_ ,” John hissed. Jack’s mouth snapped closed instantly. He looked at John, beautiful blue eyes wide with confusion and panic. Good. If he couldn’t be loved, then he’d be feared. 

John stepped forward. He ran a hand down Jack’s face, tracing nails over skin. Jack was too stunned to move. It was easy to take control. So easy that John wondered why he hadn’t done it sooner. Because, oh, it felt good. He’d held back because he loved Jack. Apparently, he shouldn’t have bothered.

Jack made a sound through sealed lips, some muffled plea. John wasn’t feeling it. He stepped back, pulling his hand away from Jack’s warm skin. He’d made his peace. And now, Jack was in his way.

“Whoops,” John murmured, crossing his arms. Then he sneered. “ _Jump_.” There was a flash of panic on Jack’s face, another muffled cry, and then he obeyed. John leaned over the edge and watched him fall, his coat fluttering like broken wings. 

The thud would have been sickening if he were weaker. As it was, it wasn’t the first time he’d made someone jump to their death. Although, this time it was different. It was Jack. 

John waited a few more seconds, looking for any sign of life before moving away. Jack was dead. He couldn’t take it back, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to. Time to go get that canister.

As he pushed his way out through the revolving doors, he could see the canister on the ground, and beyond it, Jack, draped over a bench. John picked up the canister, then walked over to Jack’s side. 

He’d almost look asleep if not for the grotesque way his back arched. Definitely dead... 

Oh goddesses. He’d killed him. He’d broken his promise, and he’d killed the only man he’d ever loved. The euphoria he’d taken from speaking freely dissipated, replaced by a numbing grief. He crouched by Jack’s head, setting the canister on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” John said. He let his gaze dance over Jack’s oh-so-beautiful and oh-so-lifeless features. He was very familiar with death; it was his trade after all. But it never failed to unsettle him, even if he didn’t let it show. He looked away for a second, turning his attention to Jack’s vortex manipulator.

“Thanks,” he murmured, easily undoing the familiar leather strap. He needed to get back into the palace under the pavement. Not to mention that sort of technology was wasted on the dead. Bracer in hand, John reached out to touch Jack’s lips. A final kiss goodbye.

Jack wasn’t long dead, but his skin was already cooling. Jack had always been so warm, both in body and personality. It had been in sharp contrast to John, whose blood ran cooler than the humans he mimicked. But all that was gone now. Jack was nothing but a shell. 

John pulled his hand away, but crouched beside him for a moment longer. Swallowing hard, he tamped down the tears threatening to spill out. Not here, not now. He picked up the canister, stood, and left without a backward glance. He would get the last piece of the puzzle, and then he would abandon this bloody rock just like everything else.

With Jack’s vortex manipulator, it was easy to get into his base. He moved quickly, tracing the source of the final signal to the autopsy bay. He froze when he saw the corpse that lay on the autopsy table. He hadn’t realized they had _Homoformatus piscis_ in this time period. A distant (very distant) relative of the sirens of Thera. And apparently, this one had picked up something that didn’t belong to him.

John set to work, opening the canisters that very obviously didn’t have radioactive material inside and removing the keys inside. He arranged them on the table, then moved to search the corpse. He easily found the tetrahedron in a pocket and grinned. At least this was coming together nicely.

He crouched by the table, tetrahedron in his fingers, carefully lowering it into the triangle key. This should provide a holomap leading to the diamond, and then he’d be off. Of course, it was then that he heard guns cock behind him.

He turned around slowly, rising to his feet, tetrahedron still in hand. No time to pull a gun, not with the four of them. Gwen’s eyes were wide. She knew what he was, and she was afraid. Good.

“Pretty and resilient. Is that even fair?” John muttered, looking them over. His spell on Gwen would have worn off when Eye Candy found her, so she was in fine shape. He must not have hit Owen hard enough; his aim was fairly straight. And he’d barely touched the others, a mistake on his part. He vaguely wondered if he’d be ending the night just like Jack.

“Shut up,” Owen snarled. John flinched, then swallowed hard, trying to keep his face impassive. They didn’t know. No one ever knew. He suppressed the urge to cower. He was stronger than that. “Gwen told us about your little trick.” John pouted, just for a second.

“Oh, but it’s far more than a trick,” he said, casting his gaze over all of them. “ _Drop your weapons._ ” He grinned at the clatter of guns on the floor, and at the shock on everyone’s faces. “See, not a trick. But if you need more proof…” He turned to Owen and waved a hand with a flourish. “ _Dance._ ” Owen jolted but complied.

“What the hell?” he spat, limbs moving of their own volition. “The fuck did you do to me?” John hummed lightly, watching the good doctor dance that old classic; the Macarena _._ He was fairly certain it dated from somewhere around this era, and judging by Toshiko’s nervous giggle, he was right. Owen turned, clapped, and kept going as John turned his attention back to the others.

“What are you?” Ianto asked, horrified. 

“Does it matter?” John tucked the tetrahedron and the keys into his jacket. He could assemble it later, in a better time and place. He needed to scan it anyway, make sure it was what his lover had said it was. She had been a cunning vixen.

“All you need to do is _move aside_ ,” John ordered. Ianto and Gwen moved back, and he made for the stairs. But he’d barely put his foot on the first step when an all-too-familiar voice rang out.

“I appreciate a good dance as much as the next guy but I don’t think now’s the time, Owen,” Jack said, stepping into the room. John paled and froze. 

“I’m not doing it on bloody purpose!” Owen complained, swiveling his hips. He was starting to break a sweat, and in nearly any other situation, John would be intrigued. But now there were much more important things on his mind.

“Neat trick,” John managed, voice faint, trying not to stammer. He had to stay strong. Jack was dead. And yet Jack stood before him. How? He ran a mental list. Phantom, zombie, clone, evil twin, hallucination, an earlier version. Nothing fit. “Go on, how’s it work?” 

Jack crossed his arms. “Stop whatever you’re doing to Owen, and I’ll tell you,” he said firmly. Huh. So he didn’t remember. John wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. 

“Fine,” John sighed as he glanced over at Owen. “ _Stop_.” Owen collapsed to the floor, breath coming heavy. John looked back at Jack and raised an eyebrow. Jack looked puzzled but sighed.

The revelation hit John like a fist to the chest. Jack was immortal. Deathless, eternal, undying, unchanging, never-ending; however you wanted to put it. He’d always loomed larger than life, but now it looked like he was larger than death too. And that couldn’t be fun.

“I pity you,” John said, and he meant it. John had always respected death. It was a necessity to make life worth living, and a last-resort escape plan. Immortality… it had definitely changed Jack. He could see it now; the fatigue and the stagnation. He knew it was age, but he hadn’t realized just how much age.

“And what happened to you?” Jack asked, changing the subject. “How did you manage to steal a siren’s song?”

“Siren?” Tosh echoed, glancing over at Jack. He nodded.

“A race of alien shapeshifters with the power to charm anyone with just their voice. Last time I saw John, he was living on their planet,” Jack explained, frowning. “He must have picked it up there.” John shook his head and clucked his tongue.

“Nice guess, Jackie, but you’re dead wrong.” John grinned, letting his hunting teeth come in. Owen swore, Tosh blanched, and Jack winced. “I am a siren. S’not your fault you don’t know though.” John watched Jack’s mind race and realization flicker behind his eyes.

“You made me forget,” Jack said softly. “You made me forget you weren’t human.” John nodded. “Why? You know I’m not bigoted.”

“You’re not,” John agreed. “But the universe at large is. It was for my safety. And yours.” True, even if that wasn’t the only reason. But Jack didn’t need to know more.

“If you made him forget that you were a… siren to protect him,” Ianto spoke up suddenly. “Then why did you come here? And why did you use your power on us?” Jack smiled at Ianto approvingly, and John felt a sudden rush of jealousy. Then Jack turned his gaze on John, brow furrowed.

“Good question,” Jack said lightly. “Got an answer?”

“I can’t deny myself, Jack,” John said. He smiled sweetly despite the rows of shark-like teeth filling his mouth. “It’s in my nature.”

“You do realize in that fable, the scorpion dies,” Jack pointed out snidely. John forced a grin, and his eyes darted around the autopsy bay. Time to make an exit.

“And so does the frog.” In one swift movement, John snatched a scalpel off of a table and launched himself at Ianto. Before he could react, John had an arm wrapped securely around him and the scalpel pressed to his throat. “So, be careful who you trust, Jack.” 

“Let him go!” Jack ordered, drawing his gun. Pointless, as John was safely hidden behind Ianto. A time when being slight came in handy. He pressed the blade a little harder into Ianto’s skin. Jack sighed, eyes meeting Ianto’s reassuringly. “What do you want from me, John? I won’t join you. My life is here now.”

“I know,” John said, not bothering to disguise the bitterness in his tone. He could feel Ianto stiffen beneath him, probably waiting for an opportunity to strike. John wouldn’t give him one. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“So what do you want?” Jack repeated. John opened his mouth, and then shut it. He didn’t know. He dropped the scalpel and stepped away. Ianto stumbled away from him, pressing a hand to his throat. He’d be fine; John had barely drawn blood. He was too good with a blade for it to be otherwise. 

John suddenly could feel everyone’s gaze on him. While he didn’t mind being the center of attention, right now, it was unbearable.

“ _Everyone, eyes off_ ,” John snapped. In an instant, the only one looking at him was Jack. Just how he’d always wanted it to be. But not like this. He’d been selfish. He was selfish. He wanted Jack. And he wanted Jack to be happy. And it was now that he realized that he couldn’t have both.

“Why didn’t you charm me?” Jack asked, looking around at his temporarily-blinded team. They were talking, but John wasn’t listening. He was good as alone with Jack. And that was what he needed right now.

“I made you a promise once,” John said softly. He reached inside his jacket, and Jack aimed his revolver for his head. John rolled his eyes and pulled out Jack’s vortex manipulator. Jack lowered his gun, and John climbed the stairs, lightly pushing Ianto out of his way. 

He didn’t miss the furrow of Jack’s brow as Ianto bumped into the wall. Eye Candy was definitely Jack’s favorite, although John didn’t doubt he would kill to defend any one of them. At the top, John held out the manipulator. Jack took it, then held it out in the light, likely checking it for anything nasty John may have planted. He hadn’t, not this time at least.

“Definitely bigger,” Jack said with the quirk of an eyebrow. John gave him a look but smiled slightly anyway. Banter always came easily to them; unlike almost everything else. 

“You never minded,” John said, smirking. And with that, he made his choice. He leaned in and kissed Jack, a proper kiss goodbye. Jack didn’t kiss back, but John didn’t expect him to. He didn’t expect anything from Jack anymore. 

“I’ll fix your friends,” John said after he pulled back. “It’s easy to _reverse my charm_.” He grinned at Jack. “They’ll be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in a moment or two.” 

“I want you gone,” Jack said calmly, crossing his arms. John shrugged and flipped open his bracer. That was his plan anyway. Before he could finish setting his destination, Jack held out a hand. “First, what was in the canisters?”

“A map to an Arcadian diamond,” John answered. No point in lying about that now. Jack furrowed his brow but didn’t protest further. Good. Jack hated him enough already without the knowledge of even more blood on his hands. 

John hit the final button and put his hands on his hips. This wouldn’t be the last time he would see Jack. But he wouldn’t come back until he had something of worth. He could win his way back into Jack’s favor, even if he couldn’t win back his heart. And he knew just how to do it.

“Oh. By the way,” John said, and Jack looked back at him. “I found Gray.” He allowed the faintest hint of a smile to grace his face as he walked into the Rift. He hadn’t technically found Gray yet, but he would. All the universe would bow at his feet if he wanted them to. Finding one man would be simple. And then maybe Jack would forgive him.


End file.
